


Lightfall

by Dragonridr21, Raayide



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon-type Pokemon, Fairy-type Pokemon, Gen, Great Kalos War, Politics, Rebellion, Scheming, Strategy & Tactics, Ultimate Weapon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonridr21/pseuds/Dragonridr21, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raayide/pseuds/Raayide
Summary: Upon a scarred land, war breaks out over a wrong unforgivable. Lives rise to match; a secondborn prince pushed to the side: a young soldier willing to shackle herself with the impossible; an orphan left with nothing but knowledge. In this land, where beings as old as time hunt, conflict arises. This time, there might not be anything strong enough to stop it.





	1. Prologue

King Dacien of Drasne was far from bowed with age. Scars littered his form, yet he stood strong, steel-backed and voice rumbling like stone. His eyes were clouded as wildfire smoke over blue skies, fogged not with age but with muddled thoughts and concepts. But when vengeance spoke in his presence iron was born from those depths and few could stand his gaze.

One of those brave few would be Az, royal assistant to the king. That was perhaps the only reason he was still in the room. 

He quietly closed the study door behind them, sealing off any talk of what was sure to come, and stood as Dacien stormed about the room, rage infused in every inch of his body.

“Those bastards,” he hissed, hunting for a target. “Hysia-”

His fist slammed into the wooden desk, making the oak creak and parchment fly off.

Az took a careful step away as Dacien paced, fury rippling over his form. “They murdered the last goodra of the swamp and thought we wouldn’t _notice_? That we wouldn’t find her corpse, stripped of teeth, horns, and tail?”

Sertave growled his own response at those words. The hulking dragonite was eerily quiet, as always, but his grey eyes followed all in the room without hesitation. He kept his wings and tail close to his sides, but it was impossible to ignore the power of the beast, taller than any man and able to reach the heavens without effort. Dacien glanced up as his dragon, gaze softening. Sertave made a crooning sound. 

Dacien sighed and looked away, hand falling to his side. Without looking, he curled his fingers around the pommel. The exposed sword glittered in the light, twisting as Dacien rested his arm against its hilt.

That blade, that damned blade, the one made from hellfire and shaped in hoarfrost. Az hated the way it called to him, dragon scales glittering on the hilt like eyes, but its attention was never focused on him. For that, he was thankful. Az gritted his teeth and drew his gaze upward, locking onto the cerulean eyes of the king.

“What will you return?” Az asked, voice tight. He had seen Hysia’s corpse, blood against the green of the swamp she had protected all of her life. Hundreds had come to mourn her, but that had not changed the fact she was _dead_, torn from the earth.

Dacien spun, hand tightening around the pommel of his sword. The blade seemed to sing at his touch, humming in the way only steel could. Az averted his gaze, and King Dacien’s clouded eyes focused for a moment to crinkle with laughter. “The man with the flower,” he teased, voice just rough enough it could be taken for mocking, “raised by the _Hisoúe_, the cruelest of all mankind, and yet fearful of a sword.”

That was enough. “Floette,” he said sharply, “is not a flower.”

Dacien seemed apologetic - for how much Az would take from the rough tempered king, there was a line, and it laid solidly with that of Floette. “My apologies.”

“Accepted,” he replied automatically. There was no point in stirring up past wounds and ancient blood feuds. Dacien’s eyes softened at his voice, and Az felt his own annoyance fade away. “My king.”

“You have no need to call me to call me king,” he said, voice like a whisper. “I am a friend, and I hope you are one, too.”

Az straightened up. “Dacien,” he answered, lips quirking. 

The king grinned at that, enjoying the singular moment of peace. There were times, no doubt, that it was not obvious. Differing personalities, thoughts and emotions run in the opposite direction. But at the heart of it, away from the anger and bitterness of the past and the conflict and guilt of the present, they were but two who had risked much to lead together. Sertave made a soft sound, jerking Dacien’s attention back to the pain and the present.

“You asked what we will return,” he murmured, fingers still tight around the hilt. “What we will give to those that killed Hysia and stained her land with her own blood. What would you suggest?”

Az could feel Sertave’s narrow gaze land on him, the beast’s chest glowing faintly from fire. “A battle back,” he answered, steeling his voice. “Blood for blood.”

Light glinted on the edge of the sword scabbard and King Dacien’s lips twitched, a smile edged with more emotion than could be measured. Wild hunger, born from the light of his heart and painted by the shadows of what had been done. 

“It is high time Roland received a dragon of his own,” Dacien murmured. “And Belaset has always yearned to see the tide of war change. Too long have the _Hisoúe_ flaunted their strength. I am not old yet.”

The king seemed to straighten as his own words, inner steel unfolding as wings behind his back. Sertave growled in approval, watching the years melt away as King Dacien, tamer of dragons and conqueror of the Wildlands, returned to the body his mournful self had inhabited. The guilt of Hysia’s death faded to embers, waiting until the moment they would be needed to reignite the fires of rage and power. Now was not the time for dark eyes and hunched shoulders. It was now they had to show strength, the fire that drove them on.

“They want to claim the dragons of our lands? To steal that which has its own heart, blood, life?” With a ringing clash of steel on steel the king drew his sword, its edges singing the song of steel and lives lost, the light reflected by its blade showing the way forward. “Then we shall show them just who they provoke. We shall show them the power of the dragons who rule the land and skies, the burning blood and unchecked power that drives us forward!”

And then he smiled - that same wicked, sharp-toothed smile that had gotten him into this mess, all full of jagged edges and blade-like humor. “The _Hisoúe_ have challenged us for the last time,” he rumbled. “That was their final mistake. Az, create the document. After this offense, nothing will stand in our path. Too long have they mocked our ways, stolen our land and dragons, and hidden behind your bastard of a brother. Perhaps they have won a battle. But we, the Drasne, the Dragonwalkers of this land, the warriors of fire and scales instead of cowardly shows of light, will win the war.”

Az bowed his head. “And so we shall,” he murmured.


	2. Chapter One - Prince I

“A dragon egg? For me?” His Royal Majesty Prince Roland Drasinian, Secondborn Prince of the Kingdom of Drasne, Dragonwalker and Count of Lumiose, looked up at his father with naked wonder in his eyes. He could not resist glancing at the huge shadow cast by Sertave, looking at the magnificent wings, the sharp claws, the scales so thick they could take a blizzard’s worth of ice without flinching. One of these great creatures, guardians of the wind and sky, the land and sea, greatest of the pokemon, would be his companion? It had been too much to hope for for longer than he could remember!

Only a second passed lost in his awe before he remembered the duties of his station and snapped to attention, kneeling before his royal father with his head bowed. “I shall accept it with honor Father. We shall be the greatest of partners, helping the kingdom rise to new heights and casting down all those who would stand in the way.”

“You two shall cast Hisoúe underfoot using their own power against them,” King Dacien proclaimed, arms spread wide and a warm, generous smile on his face. Considering the many of the nobility spread about the castle walls nearby, Roland knew that was exactly what his father was doing. Politics and war were as much about the show you could put on as the actual actions that you took. Roland knew that better than most.

“The egg shall arrive soon. Your training shall double in preparation, so that when it arrives you may rise to help your brother and the country in the war effort. I expect great things of you my son.” King Dacien didn’t wait for Roland’s answer, sweeping his cloak around as he walked purposefully back down the walls, heading for the council room in the northwest wing of the palace.

Roland stood and turned to face the courtyard, watching with unseeing eyes as the nobility, servants, soldiers and pokemon flew across the crowded grounds. Now, after years of ignoring his very existence except for a word or two at major gatherings or orders given in passing, his father decided to gift him a dragon egg? Belaset’s Noivern was fully grown, huge and powerful with a hungry gaze not unlike that of his trainer. After years of being scorned as dragonless among Dragonwalkers, all but powerless and worthless to the sea of hungry courtiers, his father decided _now_ was the time to give him a dragon?

Roland wasn’t a fool. His wonder had shrunk as the mind that had kept him alive in this palace rose forward, analyzing every word his father had said. This was a publicity stunt, something to raise morale and encourage people to join in the war effort. Having him lead his own squadron alongside a dragon would make romantics and foolish peasants sign up to die in droves. He would be happier about the chance to have his own dragon, to pull himself out of obscurity, if only it was based on actual merit. If his father had noticed his achievements, his endless work and training and chosen to reward him, then it would be a happy day. This was not what he’d imagined. A grimace pulled his face taut, the elation from the moment before souring.

A quiet croon behind him made Roland turn to face his companion. “I know,” he said, preempting Avini before she could get started. “I know I should be grateful. It’s just frustrating.” The delphox watched him with an inscrutable expression, fire flickering in the depths of her eyes and sparks trailing from the rowan wand she habitually held. Roland turned his eyes back towards the courtyard, Avini moving up to stand beside him. “More training, more responsibility, even a dragon! All the things I’ve wanted since I was old enough to understand the difference between Belaset and I. Thrown my way because it _looks good_, not because I earned his respect nor attention.” 

Avini placed a soft paw on one shoulder, silent but supportive. Another moment of silence passed, a million thoughts and feelings passing between the duo, before Roland spoke again. His voice was hard now, steel threads supporting his proclamation: “I’ve wanted all this for years. Even if this isn’t the way I wanted it, I can- no.” He sucked in a low, deep breath. “I _will_.” 

He turned to face Avini, his own fire growing in his eyes. “I will train this dragon to be the most powerful pokemon this world has ever seen. Our team will destroy all those who stand in our way and will support all those who cannot help themselves. We will be the defenders of Drasne, growing until those who scorned us stand in our shadow!” By the end of his speech he was nearly shouting, the fire in his soul, _their _souls, rising to greet the sun above. “All the world shall know our names in the end!” Avini screeched a war cry, flames spiraling out of her wand to surround them. They choked the sky with heat, a shared promise come to life.

A flash of white. Quick movement in the courtyard, lit by the bright flames surrounding them. By the time Roland moved to catch a glimpse of whatever the white was, it was gone, lost in the confusion of the courtyard and the flowers of the gardens waving in the light breeze. 

It could have been something simple; a swaying flower or a sheet caught in the wind. But Roland couldn’t shake a sudden feeling of foreboding or dismiss the way Avini watched that part of the courtyard with sudden intent. She’d gotten far more sensitive since she evolved, developing strange powers that affected her flame and perceptions. If she had sensed it, it had been there.

A hissing noise and the scrape of hard scales on stone distracted Roland, causing him to turn around to face his approaching partner. Avini didn’t move, eyes still fixed on the scene below them. “Nadu,” he greeted, turning to the approaching being.

The seviper hissed back, slithering forward in the strange way he did, careful to keep his glittering blade from ripping apart the stone bricks. He rose upward, baring his fangs in his manner of a smile, or so Roland assumed. The serpentine face was far from adept at showing human emotions.

Avini had been with him since he was a mere seven, small enough that even his child self had dwarfed her. A guardian, companion, and close friend, since he was not allowed to venture outside the palace without supervision due to his royal status. So the fennekin, from the point when she had only been able to snort out embers and chase her own tail, had been there since even before Belaset had grown distant.

Nadu was a recent addition, which explained the more mature name than _friend-friendship-happy_ Avini meant. The seviper was a guardian, one that Roland had chosen himself from the endless waves of pokemon shoved in front of his fifteen-year-old self. His elder brother had chosen the revered pancham, commonly chosen by royalty, but Roland had been drawn to the scarlet eyes that glittered with determination.

Avini and Nadu were companions, for the most part, but each had their moments. The delphox’s ears perked as she removed her gaze from the courtyard, but it was clear she was still wary. Nadu’s tail blade caught the light as he flicked it, following where she had been watching. He crooned a question.

“Most likely nothing,” Roland tried, glancing at Avini’s narrow face. The delphox seemed less than convinced. 

Her scrutiny of the courtyard didn’t last long. Moments later a screech louder than a loudred’s uproar split the air, sending the people below into a frenzy that could rival a durant nest. Everyone from noble to poorest peasant, majestic florges to hunting growlithe, began sprinting for the nearest available cover, leaving the center of the courtyard bare of any inhabitants for the first time all day.

The howling winds and high-pitched screeching made Roland crouch down to duck behind a battlement, hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise. For all he’d been hearing this since he stood no higher than a delcatty, he had never found a better way to block the noise. Avini had found a better way recently, using her powers to cast some sort of glowing pink shield over her sensitive ears, but Nadu had to bear it with Roland.

A large purple and black form dove from the sky like an avenging Legend, a figure in white sitting confidently between a pair of enormous wings. Moments before crashing into the ground the figure righted itself with a few hasty flaps, settling onto the ground in the middle of the courtyard and allowing the figure in white to dismount. 

The noivern dwarfed its partner but the man in white robes outshone his companion. The noivern had its beautiful colors, stature and the majesty of its draconic heritage to make it stand out; the man standing shared none of these traits, instead using the arrogance of his posture, his handsome face and the finery of his white robes to make himself the center of attention. 

Dismounting from a plush tauros-leather saddle decorated with gems and gold, the man immediately turned to where a group of servants huddled near the edges of the courtyard. Noivern had stopped its screech once it landed, but no one was willing to approach in case it started again. More than a few people still had their hands over their ears. 

“Servants, get over here and tend to Reynard. I have urgent business to attend to. If there is so much as a speck of dust on his fur by the time you are done you will answer to the headman, understand?” He strode away before he even saw the terrified servant girls nod, sweeping his cloak around in a grand gesture before striding through the golden doors that led to the palace throne room. 

“Belaset never changes,” Roland sighed, standing up and removing his hands from his ears as he watched the servant girls approach Reynard, their shaking hands and hesitant steps igniting a spark of pity in his heart. Avini glared at where the prince had disappeared and Nadu hissed. Neither of his companions cared for his brother much.

Raised voices in the council room in the nearby tower caught Roland’s attention, so he waved his pokemon forward as he strode off down the wall to see what the trouble was. Since he was apparently going to be an important leader in the war, he’d better stay up to date on all the action, as well as making sure the logistics were taken care of. Legends knew Belaset would never pay attention to that, no matter how many times their tutors tried to beat the importance of planning into his head.

As he walked down the wall to the council room, Roland couldn't help looking back towards the courtyard one last time. He saw a brief flash of bright white a moment before he entered the palace walls.

#

“Roland!” 

Belaset’s voice roared from across the courtyard, causing Avini to snap her ears against her skull. Roland turned slowly, watching as the royal firstborn trotted over the stones. He managed to dig his feet in an instant before his brother’s hand slapped him on the shoulder nearly hard enough to throw him to the ground.

“Brother,” he greeted, straightening up from the hit. Belaset, on the best of days, never quite recognized that since Roland was a head shorter and half his weight, he couldn’t take the same friendly slaps and punches his other friends could. Nadu rattled his tail, hissing, but Belaset didn’t even notice the seviper. Reynard had all but destroyed Belaset’s hearing, and it was only getting worse with every time his brother used his ridiculous warcry at times that were decidedly not war. But that was the way of trainers of noivern - most went completely deaf before they were twenty.

It was absolutely the way of Belaset to ignore everyone else in favor of whatever he had to do. Roland waved off the quartermaster and his aides, knowing that whatever Belaset wanted would take more time than the overworked servant had to spare. The small man escaped gratefully, already checking documents and spitting countless orders to the flock of assistants attempting to help him manage the supplies for the soon-to-be war effort. Drasne was a rich country, the capital Dragonspire all the more so, but one man could only do so much even when he had countless supplies to work with.

“Yes, Belaset? How was your trip?” Roland asked, raising his voice to a near-shout.

“Hisoúe won’t know what hit them! Reynard and I had to fight off a few patrols of their fragile fairies. They went down like petals caught in a strong breeze! They say a fairy can put down a dragon, but I certainly haven’t seen a fairy up to take more than a sneeze from Reynard! I took out a few myself, my aim dragonback is a sight to behold…” Belaset touted stories of his war prowess at full volume. Roland wouldn't be surprised if the peasants in the city below the palace grounds could hear him at this rate. The servants passing by at regular intervals certainly could.

Hopefully those peasants would spread the word of their prince’s supposed battle prowess. Morale was so low after Hysia’s death… No goodra to protect the swamp meant the dark beasts that prowled the deep waters and destroyed the rare medicinal plants that grew there would be left unchecked, only sliggoo left to battle the monsters that prowled the night. The guards and their druddigon partners on the outer walls would do their best, but no peasant felt quite as safe these nights. Add to that a costly and sure to be bloody war dangling like a guillotine’s blade over all their heads and, well. They could only hope the harvest was not affected by the war. An army ran on its stomach after all, and their harvest last year had been lean due to storm damage.

Roland quite wished that he had his brother’s ability to shrug off all the things that were bothering him. “That sounds like quite the trip, brother. Tell me, what did you see of the Hisoúe? Have they begun to move?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them brother! Reynard and I are more than enough to beat back those torchic-hearted fairy-lovers. What’s more interesting to me now is the gossip I’ve been hearing about you, my dearest brother…” 

Belaset threw an arm around Roland’s shoulders with enough force to nearly knock him off his feet. He ignored or didn’t notice Nadu’s warning hiss or Avini’s wand light with sparks. “I hear that you, the dragonless prince, are finally going to get your own dragon?”

Roland’s cheeks lit up with a fire hotter than anything Avini could conjure. Of course Belaset would know almost before Roland himself knew. Of course he would bring it up, just to rub it in his face. Roland knew what Belaset would say next before he even opened his mouth, dread and embarrassment curling like an arbok in the pit of his stomach.

“You, the dragonless, worthless, forgotten prince finally getting a dragon? I imagine Father found a trapinch in his shoe and decided you were the best fit. You’re no fighter, just a boy playing at being a hero. You’ve never beaten the training master in a spar and your pokemon won’t hold up three minutes against a true dragon! You should leave the true fighting to a warrior. You’ll never get any use out of that dragon, you’re still trying to make your sneaky seviper follow your orders!” Nadu’s tail blade flicked and he hissed loudly, tongue lashing the air but he did not strike. He knew what would happen if he hurt Belaset, even if lightly. Again. 

Roland raised his voice in protest, cheeks flaming, but Belaset ran right over him, as usual. “Father should gift that egg to me. With another dragon at my command the Dragonwalkers will never lose a battle! We shall rain destruction on Hisoúe and all who dare to oppose us. They will see the shadow of dragon wings on their land and run for their worthless lives! I will rule all this land and the lands beyond…”

Roland once again tried to tune Belaset out, eyes roving around the courtyard to see who was watching. If he could head off the rumors, maybe the news of this incident wouldn’t spread past the palace. He wouldn’t have to deal with soldiers questioning his orders, the laughter behind his back, the pitying looks from even the lowest of the palace servants… he couldn’t deal with that again, not when he’d only just gotten the last wave to disappear!

A quiet touch on his mind, a spark hovering on the edge of his consciousness. A gentle light that poked him until his focus was drawn outward once again. Belaset was halfway through a question apparently. _Thank you, Avini._

“I am the chosen one, destined to lead this country to greatness! Your dragon egg should be mine, a beast to stand by my side as we conquer all those who stand against us! So what say you, brother? Will you surrender your dragon egg to me?”

Avini hissed quietly, a lighter sound than the rumbling hiss emanating from Nadu at Roland’s feet. His mind raced, trying to figure out something he could say to lead Belaset off this topic. Direct his attention elsewhere…

“I’m sorry brother, but didn’t you say it’s likely to be something small and less powerful? After all, you as the older brother and heir received a noivern, powerful and befitting of a king. I am younger, I will most likely receive a lesser dragon. Would you really settle for less? And for an egg that is to be stolen from our sworn enemies no less? If you really want a lesser creature you may exercise your rights, but-” Roland’s mouth felt dry and full of sand badmouthing the dragon egg that would help him rise, to accomplish what he had always dreamed of, but he knew his gambit had worked when Belaset cut him off.

“You’re right brother, I am the rightful heir, I deserve better than a secondborn’s dragon! You shall keep your egg, stolen from the disgraceful Hisoúe, less majestic and powerful than my Reynard. You can lead your battalion with a pitiful dragon by your side. Reynard and I will find a suitable pokemon to join our team, one befitting of the true king, the chosen of Drasne! We shall lead armies to greatness!”

“I expected no less,” he said quietly, unable to help the sharpness in his gaze and barely able to hold back the bitterness in his tone. Roland flicked his eyes down to hide it. “What will you do?”

Belaset sniffed, flapping one hand as he adjusted his flying robes. “I am far too busy to spend precious heartbeats scouring the wilderness for some worthy creature. I will have others search far and wide for one instead - if you are taking one from Hisoúe, what of me? Are you the only allowed to disarm our enemies, no matter what weakling you’re being given?” His brother’s eyes burned with fire when Roland dared to glance up. “I will strike at Hisoúe’s heart instead!”

Roland did not have an answer for that, try as he might to summon one. Nadu touched his leg with his nose and he jerked back to attention, mumbling the first thing to come to his mind. “Of course, brother. But do you-” the question died in his throat. “How will you?”

Judging from Belaset’s expression, he had not been entirely successful, but his brother was too consumed by his new-found desire to pay much mind to it. “I shall take their greatest hope, the fairy they worship within the walls of their palaces! I shall destroy their traditions that they cling to so tightly, snatching their crown jewel, the queen of their pokemon, from under their very noses!” Belaset’s voice grew even louder, as if it hadn’t been deafening enough to start with. Roland could not fathom how he had grown up in the same ruthlessly gossiping palace that he had, but had never learned the art of secrecy. 

But Roland… he knew he had few skills. Growing up being told it had already explained that fact in detail, and it wasn’t in the way where his skills didn’t align with that of his family’s or Drasne’s ideals. He excelled at certain things, however, abilities he clutched close to his chest and shared little of, learned through hard experience and long hours of work.

Belaset was near deaf, full of himself, and too boisterous for most situations. But he was far from imperceptive. There was a reason he had survived for so long on guard, he and Reynard holding a spotless record, and rarely did things pass without his notice.

Roland was one of them. Time with Avini had taught him strategy, time with Nadu had taught him patience, and both together had shown him how to avoid situations he had no desire to be a part of. Nudging the seviper with his boot, flicking a finger behind his back to alert Avini, Roland waited quietly for his opportunity as Belaset rambled on about fairies and plans, gestures wild and eyes backlit with passion.

There. A flash of white movement in the far corner of the courtyard, the screech of something sharp against stone. Belaset broke off, frowning, and turned. Roland ducked his head, arms close to his side, and sped off.

His brother was vengeful but not for family. With how consumed he was by his desire for another pokemon, Roland rather figured he’d have forgotten about his disappearing act by the time he entered the palace.

Avini crooned something, clutching her rowan wand tighter than normal. Roland sighed, ducking through a secondary entrance Belaset wouldn’t care to check. “Nothing, Avini. I just- I need to think.”

_About the war_, he finished silently, but she didn’t press. They traveled quietly to his chamber, Nadu’s forked tongue flicking out every few seconds for any touch of Belaset’s presence. But they arrived without incident and Roland slipped inside.

His room was colder than normal, but Avini warmed it with a sniff and flaring of the dormant flames inside her ears. Nadu hissed up at Roland, prompting a smile, before curling up on his basking rock near the window. Roland crossed the marble floor to his bed, sitting on plush silk covers and placing his head in his hands,and stared as the fireplace lit with a quiet touch from Avini’s wand. Both of his pokemon stared at him, waiting for a reaction, but after a moment they seemed to accept he had much on his mind. 

Another member, this one a dragon, stolen from Hisoúe. As much as the thought filled him, he couldn’t help but be drawn back to Belaset, of the fire in the firstborn’s eyes and the steel in his voice. The fire and steel that his father and brother used to attack, to strike against their enemies. The steel and fire he had inherited, but used as a shield instead of a sword, guarding his heart and those of his people. He was of the royal family of Drasne, a Dragonwalker, but he could not escape the differences that set him apart from those around him

“I have no doubt, brother,” Roland mumbled to the empty room. “I have no _doubt_ you will do anything you please.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you get two writers talking about worldbuilding and the Great Kalos War. This story is co-written by Raayide and Dragonridr21- we decided this story needed to be told so others could enjoy it rather than languishing in our messaging inboxes. Most chapters will be longer than the prologue and each chapter will switch between characters. Please enjoy and review!


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